


Everything Carries Me to You

by gonergone



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 05:43:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8653084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gonergone/pseuds/gonergone
Summary: A day in the life of married kings.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tantamoqwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tantamoqwrites/gifts).



"As you can see," the man – whose name Damen had managed to forget in the 30 seconds since they'd been introduced – went on, "the pathways would wind between the trees and would be wide enough for processions, which I'm sure you'll appreciate. Let me show you the plans for the fountains…" 

Damen felt his eyelids droop and shook his head quickly to wake himself up. This was the thirteenth potential plan for royal gardens he'd been presented with that day, and he was still trying to understand how he'd been the one stuck listening to proposals when the whole garden idea had been Laurent's in the first place. Laurent, who was flitting happily among the room's other guests, conspicuously _not_ having his ear talked off about the virtues of flowering vines and bowers. 

It was stifling in the Great Hall, the tail end of summer making itself known. Next year, Damen vowed, clasping his hands together over the unfinished royal garden plans to keep himself from using them as a fan, they'd know better than to stay in the palace until autumn. That thought brought on a surge of memories of Laurent in Ios, in what was now being called the Summer Palace. Laurent, his hair fanning out behind him in the breeze as they stood together on the balcony, Damen's hand sliding from his shoulder to his lower back, Laurent turning to him, smiling, and saying – 

"Of course for the benches themselves I recommend stone or perhaps marble, though wood may be more aesthetically pleasing. I would leave that decision to Your Majesties." The man bowed awkwardly, and Damen found himself struggling to find something interesting to say about benches. 

"Thank you," he finally managed, nodding the man off the dais. There were still at least 18 hopeful garden planners waiting, but he raised a hand wearily and one of his attendants obediently went to stop the next one before he approached. It would only buy Damen a few precious moments of peace, but he'd learned to take what he could get. 

He watched Laurent from the corner of his eye, knowing that Laurent had to be feeling the heat even more than Damen himself, but you'd never know it from the way that Laurent moved about the room, talking and laughing, his head thrown back slightly, the pale skin of his arms and legs exposed. As the summer's heat had taken hold, Laurent had been dressing more and more Akielon, and the view was something Damen had not yet learned to take for granted. He doubted he ever would, either. 

Even from the dais he could see Laurent's clever smile, the one he used in public. It was starting to look a little frayed to Damen's expert eye, but he doubted anyone else would notice. It was hard to miss the sly raise of an eyebrow, the way that Laurent was leaning over just so, the hem of his Akielon clothing raising just the slightest, tantalizing inch. Damen took a steadying breath, forcibly ripping his gaze away. Unfortunately, he met the eyes of the next waiting designer, who eagerly hastened up the steps to where Damen sat. Damen tried not to sigh out loud, biting the inside of his cheek and wishing more than anything that Laurent was at his side.

Most of the time, being a King really wasn't everything it was cracked up to be.

*

By the time that the interminable evening slowly drew to an end, Damen was headachy and irritable, his polite smile transformed into something much more like a grimace, sending servants scattering away from him. He imagined he'd feel bad about that later, but at the moment all he could think of was getting to his bed chamber and away from everyone. 

He found Laurent already waiting for him, his eyes dancing in the candlelight, a small private smile playing on his lips. The lips that Damen had been thinking about all day, all _year_.

Damen strode forward and touched Laurent's cheek lightly, his hand looking impossibly large against the pale skin. 

There were reasons Damen loved Laurent, reasons enough to fill every scrap of paper in their newly united kingdom, but it seemed like each day Damen could find at least one more, and at their heart all of them are the same reason anyway: because Laurent was Laurent, and his person was everything Damen desired in the world. 

His headache evaporated as he pressed his lips against Laurent's, his hands buried in blond hair. He could feel himself relaxing, muscles slowly unclenching. He could feel Laurent's hands tracing light patterns on his back, Laurent's tongue darting into his mouth. The kiss was familiar and yet utterly explosive, as always, and Damen felt the last of the day's stress melting away.

Damen finally broke the kiss. They were both breathing hard, and he stepped back, one finger pressing against Laurent's mouth, which curled into a sharp smile. 

Desire flared, but beneath it a strong burn of affection, too. Damen leaned down to kiss Laurent's eyelids, one after the other, his fingers slipping down to Laurent's neck and chest, pressing lightly against his collarbone. He followed his hands with his mouth, pausing at the edge of Laurent's clothes. He pushed the cloth out of the way with growing impatience, ripping the seams.

Laurent chuckled. "Impatient, are we?" 

"It's your fault," Damen retorted. "Don't think I didn't notice you teasing me all day."

"Teasing?" Laurent asked archly, his tone on that Damen knew only too well.

"Teasing," Damen growled, nipping at the soft skin of his neck.

Laurent didn't bother denying it, his fingers catching in Damen's hair and yanking his head up so that their mouths met again.

Damen reveled in the way that Laurent leaned his full weight into him, his smaller body fitting neatly into Damen's. Laurent's weight was nothing, the slightest press against Damen's side. The feel of him would never get old, Damen was convinced, although he was perfectly happy to spend the rest of his life testing that theory. 

The light cloth came apart in his hands like butter, and distantly he heard the sharp crack of metal clasps hitting the tiled floor. Against his side, Damen felt, more than heard, Laurent's huff of annoyance. 

_This_ was what he'd been longing for all day: the heat of Laurent's skin, how uncontrollably honest Laurent was when he was naked; for someone who controlled every glance, every word, Laurent couldn't control the way his pulse surged under Damen's fingers, or the way his eyes widened slightly with every stoke of Damen's thumb. He also couldn't control the dull pink that had spread across his chest, which Damen enjoyed making spread with every touch. 

Damen ran his thumbs against the pale pink nipples, rubbing small, slow circles as he leaned in to suck at Laurent's throat again. 

"You always leave marks," Laurent complained, his breath coming faster. "Brute." It was said with probably more affection than Laurent realized.

"I like how it looks." He didn't need to see Laurent roll his eyes to know it was happening.

"You like people to know that I belong to you," Laurent countered knowingly. 

"Hmm," Damen agreed, leaning back slightly to admire the red mark he'd left. "You don't seem to mind." 

One corner of Laurent's mouth crooked up. It was the look he had when he was considering a challenge, and finding the terms acceptable. 

He stepped away from Damen, carefully undoing the clasps of Damen's clothes and letting them fall away from Damen's body until he stood as naked as Laurent. Laurent's fingers slid down Damen's chest, teasing the muscled flesh. He kept going until he could press his fingers carefully into Damen's upper thigh, squeezing with surprisingly strength. 

"Does it hurt?" Laurent's question was curious, with an underlay of heat. Damen filed that away to consider at length later.

"No."

Laurent raised an eyebrow.

"Not in an unpleasant way," Damen amended. 

"I'd use my mouth, but it's harder to make a lasting mark on your skin than mine," Laurent mused. "Besides, you might like that _too_ much." Damen didn't have to see the smile to hear it in his voice. 

"No one's going to see a mark there," Damen pointed out. 

Laurent tapped Damen's leg. "I'll see it. You'll see it." He shrugged one shoulder, managing to look elegant even while nude, something that Damen was still trying to sort out the hows of. "No one else matters." He said it so casually that for a moment Damen thought he'd misheard him, but no. Of course not. It was, in a nutshell, the difference between him and Laurent.

Damen let his fingers stroke the tender space that Laurent had left behind, imagining the dark bruise that would form. _Also_ imaging the way that Laurent wouldn't fail to press the place - especially in front of other people, _especially_ when Damen absolutely could not react – over the days it would take to heal. He flexed his leg and smiled at the thought, looking forward to it already.

Life with Laurent wasn't remotely boring, and that was never going to change.

Not that Damen was complaining.


End file.
